


how the story goes

by Rianne



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rianne/pseuds/Rianne
Summary: Kent loves fanfiction. Jeff really, really doesn't, especially when it hits a little too close to home.





	how the story goes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CertainlyUncertain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertainlyUncertain/gifts).



> This is about in-universe RPF (as in, fanfiction within the Check Please! 'verse about Kent and Jeff) but it's not RPF. No real hockey players here. The only RPF I like is meta-RPF. 
> 
> Based on [this post](http://whovianravenclaw.tumblr.com/post/166108479961/addicted-to-t-e-a-bisexualdinahlance-kent-both).
> 
> For C's birthday, with beta'ing help from J & J.

“I found a great one,” Kent says, hopping over the back of Jeff’s couch to sit on the other end. Jeff looks up from his phone, where he was reading the news.

“A great what?” he asks, frowning, before he realizes what the answer is. He suppresses a groan.

Kent must see in his expression that he’s figured it out, because he flashes him his devastating smirk and holds up his phone. “Okay, so this one isn’t even about hockey,” he says.

“Please don’t,” Jeff says.

Kent ignores him. “This one is what people call a ‘coffeeshop AU’,” he says.

“A what?” Jeff regrets the words as soon as he’s said them. Betraying any interest at all usually just makes Kent go on for longer.

“I know you know what an AU is,” Kent says. He flops around until he’s sprawled across the couch, head against the armrest, one leg hooked over the back of the couch, the other spread out so his toes are almost touching Jeff’s thigh.

“Alternative… universe?” Jeff says, because it’s already too late anyway. He keeps his eyes away from Kent’s crotch.

“Close enough,” Kent says. “So, okay, you work in a coffeeshop.”

“Why would I work in a coffeeshop,” Jeff says. He looks down at his phone, but the screen has gone black. He heaves a sigh and puts it down.

“And neither of us play hockey,” Kent says.

“Then what’s the point?” Jeff asks. “Aren’t these people hockey fans?”

Kent rolls his eyes at him. “Swoops, they love us even if we don’t play. And they know our love is enduring and would persist even if we weren’t teammates. Though I imagine it’d be hard to have these perfect abs if I didn’t work out every day, so if you only love me for my body, this story doesn’t really make sense.”

Jeff swallows. “Right.”

“But since you love me for my personality, too, it all makes sense,” Kent continues. Jeff tilts his head back to lean it against the couch cushions. He closes his eyes. Kent goes on, “Okay, so the start is pretty boring—I don’t really care how you got to work in the coffeeshop, anyway.”

“Why do you read these,” Jeff mumbles, as if he’s going to get a different answer than the last fifty times he asked.

“I love seeing all the different iterations of our romantic bond,” Kent says grandly, as always, and Jeff resists the urge to smack himself in the face. Why does he ask these questions when he knows Kent is going to give this kind of answer? Every time it happens, Jeff just sinks a little lower into his eternal pointless longing for Kent.

Jeff bites his lip. “Fine. Just. Get it over with,” he says.

“Okay, so you work in the coffeeshop, and I’m…” He scrolls around on his phone. “I’m an accountant.” The expression of disgust on Kent’s face makes Jeff laugh. “Gross,” Kent says. “Anyway. Okay. So. _Jeff was cleaning the espresso machine when the bell above the door clanged. He turned around to find a gorgeous blond man stepping up to the counter._ You hear that? I’m the gorgeous blond man,” he says.

“Just fucking read it,” Jeff says, because if Kent is going to interrupt the story ever other sentence, they’ll be here until three in the morning.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were so eager to hear it,” Kent says, smirking at Jeff.

He takes Jeff through what is probably several pages worth of witty coffeeshop banter. It’s actually pretty well-written. Jeff thinks he could enjoy this story if it wasn’t about how he and Kent pined for each other over double espressos and cake (neither of which Kent would consume in real life, because he sticks to his diet plan better than Jeff ever could).

When Kent first started this weird habit a couple years ago, he showed up with the worst hockey fan fiction he could find—stuff that was riddled with typos and plot holes and weird characterization. They were stories about the Aces winning the cup, or stories in which Kent dated fans or players from other teams. He never answered when Jeff asked where he even found that nonsense. He’d just settle in and they’d laugh over the crappy storytelling, all the things they said in the fiction that they’d never say in real life.

Jeff had thought that Kent was trying to tell him something about himself, the first time Kent had read one where he dated another player. But when he’d hinted at it, Kent had laughed and said he was just here for the bad fiction. That it just made it funnier, when the stories were about him and another guy. That it was kind of ridiculous, what fans came up with, because he was obviously straight, and that the idea of him or any of the Aces actually being gay was weird, which was why it was best left to fiction.

About two years ago, Kent showed up with the first story about him and Jeff. He’d laughed at Jeff’s horrified expression and read the whole thing, about losing a game and Jeff kissing Kent as comfort and them going home together.

Kent had been very drunk, his words slurring as he read. Jeff had been more than a little tipsy himself, which was probably why he’d let Kent read the entire thing. Afterwards, Kent had laughed about it some more and then they’d both fallen asleep on the couch.

That was before Jeff realized that he had far too much in common with the fictional versions of himself, who pined for Kent and hid it. Except the Jeffs in those stories always got their happy ending and their kiss.

Now it’s been months since any of the stories were about anything _other_ than Jeff and Kent, getting together in some spectacular fashion or other. Sometimes there’s even making out or other vaguely sexual stuff, which Kent reads in the sultriest voice possible. A week or two ago, when they were both wasted after the Aces secured their playoffs spot, Kent read him a terrible one with lots of typos, and Jeff is pretty sure there was a blowjob somewhere in there.

It’s creepy that fans write this. But it wouldn’t be so much of a problem if Kent didn’t treat it like a joke, the idea that they’d be together or that either of them would be into men. It’d be less of a problem, too, if Jeff weren’t so hopelessly, completely gone on Kent.

The coffeeshop AU draws to a close when the Jeff in the story invites Kent up to his apartment above the café. Kent reads the last line triumphantly and then flings his phone onto the couch.

“Beautiful,” he says.

“Right,” Jeff mutters.

Kent smirks at him. “Sorry, was it not to your taste? I’ll bring something hockey-related again next time. No more AUs.”

“Please don’t,” Jeff says. “How many beers did you have?”

Kent frowns in thought. “Three? Or four, maybe.”

“Cool, spare room then,” Jeff says. He grabs Kent’s arm and drags him up from the couch. If they stay in the living room any longer and Kent keeps smirking at him and reading romantic fan fiction, Jeff is going to say or do something he regrets. He might blurt out that he wouldn’t mind sharing double espressos with Kent or that he’s pretty sure he loves him, or he might just give in to the urge he’s had for well over a year and kiss him. All of that would be bad, because Kent thinks this stuff is a joke.

He shepherds Kent into one of his spare bedrooms—the one decked out in Aces memorabilia that Kent not-so-secretly loves—and flees to his own room, where he can bury his face in his pillow for a bit and hide from the realities of his ill-advised crush on his captain.

\--

There’s not a lot of time for reading fan fiction during the playoffs. They win the first round against the Oilers, but it takes them seven games and they lose their first-line center to a broken wrist from a rough check. Three days after that, they’re getting on the ice for the first game of round two against the Schooners, and five games later, the season is over.

When he gets home after the game, Jeff kicks and breaks the really nice, fake-flowers-filled vase in his hallway that his interior designer sold him on a couple of years ago. There’s very little satisfaction in it, because it hurts his foot—the glass is thicker than it looks—and he has to clean up the mess himself.

They clean out their lockers a couple of days later, and there’s a bit of press, and then the season has really and truly ended. Jeff meets with the trainers to hear what they want him to work on this summer, but there’s no way he’s getting right back into training without a break, so he bums around his house for a week.

He doesn’t see Kent at all, but that’s unsurprising. Kent takes losses hard. After an unsuccessful playoffs run, it usually takes him at least a week or two to recover enough to want to talk to anyone. Kent’s dedication is something Jeff has always admired. Kent takes his role as captain seriously; he’s proud of the team for every win, and he feels responsible for every loss. Jeff knows some people in the press think Kent doesn’t take anything seriously, because all they get to see is Kent’s camera-ready smiles. But Jeff knows better, and he’s sure Kent is beating himself up. He always has to resist the urge to go see Kent and try to comfort him, but he knows Kent really does need his space.

Not seeing Kent helps, a little, to stop the constant thoughts of him. Jeff’s crush is definitely made worse by proximity. Maybe it’d be a good idea to get some distance over the summer. It might lessen the feelings he has for Kent. That’s what he’d thought last summer, but his dedication to keeping his distance had gone up in smoke the first time Kent had invited him over. At the end of the day, they’re still best friends. He’s never going to give that up. Even so, he enjoys the small respite in Kent-related thoughts, brought on by Kent’s post-playoffs recluse habit.

On the other hand, maybe his brain was just saving up all thoughts of Kent for one big moment.

A week and a half after the Schooners kick them out, Jeff dreams about the last game. He dreams that they lose it, but then his dream takes a different course, one where Kent pushes him against the wall in the locker room and kisses him to make up for the loss. In the style of dreams, they’re in Jeff’s apartment suddenly, and Jeff is up against the wall in the hallway, with Kent kissing him, taking his shirt off. Then Jeff’s jeans and boxers are gone and Kent kneels down and takes him into his mouth, and it’s so good, _so_ good—

Jeff wakes up hard and panting, and he doesn’t really think about what he’s doing. He shoves a hand in his boxers and replays his dream, the things Kent did with his lips and his tongue. It takes very little time before he comes with a cry.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he says to the empty room, as soon as he can breathe again and he can think through what he just did. He’s still shaking from his climax. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

He rolls over and screams into his pillow.

When he’s showered, he’s still feeling fuzzy from how good that orgasm was, and it takes him a second after he picks up his phone to see that he has a text from Kent.

 **Kent [8:05 am]:** im inviting myself over for fifa tnite

He should tell Kent that he has plans. He should make actual plans so he gets out of the house and sees people who aren’t Kent so he can get the fuck over his pointless, hopeless crush.

 **Jeff [9:17 am]:** Yeah ok

\--

Kent arrives just after eight. He looks kind of tired and sad, but much less so than right after the game. He also looks gorgeous, with his messy hair and his bright eyes. There are fading bruises on his left arm from a hard check in their last game. Jeff wants to kiss it better.

They play FIFA for a couple of hours until Kent gets tired of losing. (Jeff may or may not have spent hours every day playing FIFA on his own the past week.) Then they switch to watching TV, until Kent says, “Oh by the way, I found a really good story.”

“Please don’t,” Jeff says. He means it even more than usual.

“It’s not an AU,” Kent says, as if that’s supposed to make a difference.

“Kent, I don’t care, please stop,” Jeff says.

Kent pulls out his phone and scrolls around. “Okay, so someone wrote it, like, right after Game 5. _Swoops and Kent were the last two in the locker room_ ,” he reads.

Images from his dream flash across Jeff’s mind. The last two in the locker room. Kent stepping into his space. Kent telling him he played well. Kent reaching up to cup his face.

“ _Kent said, “You did your best out there”_ ,” Kent reads.

“Stop,” Jeff says.

There must be something different in his voice, because Kent actually looks up from his phone and frowns at him in confusion. “What is it?”

“Stop,” Jeff repeats. “You have to—Kent, you have to _stop_.”

“Oh,” Kent says, brows knitting together even more. “Is—Is something wrong?”

“No,” Jeff says. “Yes. Just. Don’t.”

“But—” Kent says. He doesn’t finish the sentence.

It’s quiet for a minute. Jeff should explain, but there’s nothing he can say.

“Is it because it’s about the loss?” Kent says. He sounds gentle all of a sudden, and that’s not something Jeff can deal with at all.

“No,” Jeff says. That’s a mistake. He could’ve said _yes_ , and Kent would’ve believed him. Now he has to come up with some other reason. “It’s… It’s just…” He swallows, and finally comes out with, “It’s just gross.”

“Oh,” Kent says quietly. “I—Sorry. I didn’t think—Sorry.”

“I mean, that fans would think—would write about—” Jeff says.

“Yeah, no, it’s—yeah,” Kent says. There’s a beat of silence. “I should head home,” Kent says, already standing up.

“What?” Jeff says, because it’s barely past ten, and Kent sleeps over more often than not, anyway. “But you—Aren’t you—”

“I only had one beer,” Kent says, grabbing his keys from where he left them on the coffee table. “I’ll see you, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Jeff says. He has no idea what’s happening. Ten seconds later, Kent is gone, and Jeff is staring at the blank screen of his TV. What the fuck was that?

\--

 **Jeff [2:43 pm]:** Wanna hit up a casino tonight?

 **Kent [2:49 pm]:** cant sry

\--

 **Jeff [10:32 am]:** You visiting your sister soon?

 **Kent [11:58 am]:** next mnth

 **Jeff [12:03 pm]:** Cool

 **Jeff [12:04 pm]:** Got any plans this week?

\--

 **Jeff [9:05 pm]:** damn what a goal

 **Jeff [9:06 pm]:** You watching?

 **Kent [9:07 pm]:** yeah

\--

 **Jeff [10:05 am]:** Wanna come over tonight?

 **Kent [2:03 pm]:** sry got plans

\--

So Kent is avoiding him.

It stings even more than it should. He’s not really sure what happened, but it must have something to do with their last conversation, when he stopped Kent from reading that story. Maybe that whole ritual meant more to Kent than he thought. Or maybe… maybe it’s something else; he doesn’t really know. He does know that Kent is ghosting him, and it fucking sucks. It makes him a little angry, too. They’ve been best friends since Kent was a rookie and Jeff was a sophomore, and he deserves better than to be ignored without explanation.

That’s why he shows up at Kent’s house at 8:30 pm that night.

Kent opens the door in sweatpants and an Aces t-shirt. He’s carrying a bright red smoothie, the kind of strawberry-laden thing that he makes when he wants to treat himself. He also goes pale as soon as he sees Jeff.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you really had plans,” Jeff says.

Kent narrows his eyes. “So?” he challenges.

Jeff sighs. “Can I come in?”

Kent steps back to let him through, and they end up on Kent’s couch. Kit comes over to nudge Jeff’s hand, but he’s not in the mood to pet her, so she quickly wanders off to go sulk in a corner somewhere.

“Do you want to tell me what I did wrong?” Jeff says.

“Nothing,” Kent says. He looks away.

Jeff pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so what you’re saying is you’re just being a dick and ignoring me for no reason.”

“No,” Kent says. He takes a sip of the smoothie and runs his finger around the glass, tracing a circle in the condensation.

“So I did do something wrong,” Jeff says.

“I just,” Kent says. “I just need some time to myself. I’m always like that after we lose the playoffs.”

“Right, you are, except you already had the time to yourself,” Jeff says. “And then you invited yourself over, which means you’d had enough time alone. And besides, if it was just that, you wouldn’t feel like you need to lie to me and make up plans when you’re just going to sit around watching TV and drinking Treat Yo-Self smoothies.”

Kent puts the smoothie down on his coffee table. “Maybe I knew you’d hound me if I told the truth,” he snaps. “Is it a crime now to not want to see you?”

Jeff feels like someone stabbed him in the chest. “No,” he says. Suddenly, he really regrets showing up here. “No. Of course not. Sorry. I, uh. Of course you don’t have to hang out with me if you don’t want to.” He swallows away the lump in his throat. “I uh. I should go, then.”

Kent rubs a hand over his face. “Wait,” he says. “I didn’t mean—Look, I just—” He takes a deep breath. “It’s not—you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I just—You said—I just need—”

“What did I say?” Jeff asks.

“Nothing,” Kent says, but he looks hurt, all of a sudden, so that’s obviously a lie.

“Is this about those stories you like to read?” Jeff says, because that was the last thing they talked about. “Because—because if it means that much to you, I can—You can keep reading them, you know. Reading them to me, I mean.” He means it, too. If this is how forlorn Kent looks when Jeff tells him to quit it, Jeff will gladly sit through a few excruciating hours of fan fiction every week.

Kent looks at him a little weirdly. “I’m not going to do it if you think—if you think the gay stuff is gross,” he says.

Jeff gapes at him. “Huh? If I…”

“If you think the gay stuff is gross,” Kent repeats, shifting against the couch and looking uncomfortable now. “It’s not—Anyway, I just, I just, I just need a couple days. It’s not… I’m not mad at you or anything.”

“If you thought I was being homophobic, you damn well _should_ be mad at me,” Jeff says. “I didn’t mean—I did not mean that. At all.”

“What?” Kent says, frowning at him now.

“I just meant it’s... It’s invasive. For fans. To write that shit about us like we aren’t real people,” Jeff says, gesturing as he speaks. “It’s weird and creepy, but not because it’s _gay_. That would be fucking hypocritical,” he adds, and then he realizes what he just said, and his eyes widen.

“What?” Kent says.

“What?” Jeff echoes, panicked.

“Did—what— _what_ ,” Kent says again.

“Okay,” Jeff says, standing up and slowly backing away toward the door. He looks at the floor because he doesn’t want to trip, not because he doesn’t want to see the expression on Kent’s face. “Okay, I’m—I didn’t—that is not what I meant to say and I’m—I should probably go, because I didn’t, uhh, I did not mean to barge into your house and I definitely did not mean to say… that. So I’m going to leave now and we’re going to pretend I never said that thing I just said, and that I’m really, like, super straight, okay? Should be easy because we’ve been doing that for years… Well, I mean, _I_ have been doing that for years—And that’s, that’s just a reminder: It has been years and we’re really good friends and it’s never been weird to, like, share a locker room or anything, so if you could just remember that going forward, then there’s no need at all to be upset about anything that I may or may not have just said, so—”

“I’m gay!” Kent interrupts.

“What,” Jeff says. He looks up, and Kent is looking a little panicked but mostly very determined.

“I’m gay,” Kent repeats. “And I—was upset because I thought you thought that stuff was gross because it was gay. So. So that’s. Please sit back down.”

Jeff sits back down. Kent’s living room falls silent for a few long seconds.

“You’re gay,” Jeff says.

“Yeah,” Kent says. He swallows visibly.

“Okay. Uh. Me too,” Jeff says.

Kent chuckles nervously. “Uh yeah, I gathered that,” he says.

“Right,” Jeff says.

More silence. They stare at each other as Jeff tries to quiet his screaming thoughts. In the end, it’s Kent who speaks first. “Uh, stupid question, but I guess you don’t, uh, mind?” he says.

“What?” Jeff says. “No. No, of course not, I’m—You’re really gay?” He winces as soon as the words are out. He just can’t quite believe it.

Kent huffs out a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, and he’s beginning to look almost calm, while Jeff still feels like he’s dying a little. “Yeah, really. I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I wasn’t,” Jeff blurts, and then regrets it. “I mean—shit, uh, not that I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” Kent says, and it looks like he means it, too. “I mean, when I say I was going to tell you eventually, I meant that when I was a rookie I told myself I’d do it next season, and then I told myself that again the year after that, and again the year after that. And the one time it sort of came up, I kind of panicked and lied, so. You know.”

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “I’m—Uh. I’m glad you told me.”

“Me too, actually,” Kent says. He smiles, something much softer than his usual smirks.

That’s when Jeff realizes that this new information is definitely going to make his crush about 300% worse. And that it might mean he actually has a shot at this, if Kent is gay too. That’s not a helpful thought, because the odds are still slim. It’s definitely not something he wants to be thinking about now. Instead, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you out to anyone?”

“Just my sister,” Kent says. He pulls his legs up onto the couch, which he only does when he’s relaxed, so he seems to be all right talking about this. “Not really anyone else. Well, I mean. I’ve, uh. I had a… boyfriend? Fling? Something. When I was seventeen. So he knows. And I’ve had a couple hook-ups, but they were just one-offs, you know? I think most of them didn’t know who I was, anyway. How about you?”

It’s really, really weird to discuss this with Kent. Or with anyone at all, because, “Uh, nobody,” Jeff says. “I think my mom suspects. She keeps asking me if I’m seeing anyone in very deliberately gender-neutral terms.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t really, uh, figure it out till like a year and a half ago.” That was when he’d realized just how much he liked Kent. He’d had crushes before, but they’d never been people he saw naked on a regular basis, which turned out to make a big difference in terms of identifying what, exactly, he was feeling.

He’s considered telling another friend, or one of his siblings, or his cousin Reesa who he’s close with, but it felt like a betrayal to tell anyone before he told Kent, who’s been his closest friend for years.

Kent nods sympathetically. “So have you… you know. Dated?” he asks.

Jeff tries and fails not to be embarrassed about the answer. “Not really,” he mutters. “I mean, yeah, I have. Just not, you know, guys. I—I had a girlfriend in high school. And I’ve, uh, had a couple flings since then, with women. But not since I figured out that I’m gay, so I haven’t—yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. He’s not a virgin, but sometimes it feels like he might as well be.

“Damn,” Kent says, looking sympathetic. Then he smirks and says, “You’re missing out.”

Jeff can’t deal with this. “Shut up,” he mumbles. “So the team doesn’t know about you?”

Kent shakes his head. “I mean, if I was gonna tell any of them, it would be you,” he says.

Something warm settles in Jeff’s stomach. “Thanks,” he says. “I—Can I hug you?”

“Fuck yeah,” Kent says, sounding relieved. They’ve always been tactile, and Jeff doesn’t hesitate to slide up to Kent’s side and pull him in close. Kent is warm and soft against him, all his hard muscle going pliant in Jeff’s arms.

He always feels a bit guilty about indulging in this. But Kent knows he’s gay now, even if he doesn’t know about the intense crush Jeff has on him, so he feels less guilty than usual.

\--

Everything goes back to normal, except Jeff’s crush gets worse.

He starts dreaming about Kent all the time. It had only happened maybe twice before that dream about the playoffs loss, but now it’s a twice-weekly occurrence, and it’s driving Jeff insane. He keeps waking up hard, on the brink of an orgasm. Sometimes he tries to ignore it, or at least to think of anything other than Kent while he jerks off, but usually he ends up giving in, coming with Kent’s name on his lips.

Kent doesn’t act any differently around him. They’ve gone back to hanging out a couple of times a week. Once they settle into an off-season training routine, they train together three times a week on top of that. Kent is around all the time, and he’s just the same as he always is: funny, gregarious, laughing at Jeff more often than not, with sudden shifts to earnest supportiveness when Jeff struggles in training or gets upset for any reason at all.

The only difference is that he’s stopped showing up with fan fiction. There are no more announcements that he’s found good stories; he stops suddenly launching into one tale or another. It’s a relief, but Jeff still doesn’t know what to think of it. Is Kent uncomfortable, now that they know about each other? Was he using the stories as a way to send a message about himself—even though he’d denied it—that he no longer needs to because Jeff knows about him now?

Jeff doesn’t know why he brings it up, instead of letting sleeping dogs lie. He should just count his blessings and leave it alone, but he can’t stand the idea that Kent is uncomfortable somehow. Apparently, Jeff is so in love with him he’d rather be uncomfortable himself.

“So where’s the fan fiction?” he asks one night, when they’re on either side of his kitchen table, a deck of cards between them. Jeff has just dealt for the next round of blackjack.

“What?” Kent asks, throwing him a surprised look over the card table.

“I mean, not that I miss it,” Jeff says. “I was just wondering why I haven’t heard any in, like, a month.”

“Oh,” Kent says. “I thought it might be weird. Uh, hit,” he adds, gesturing at the cards.

“Oh, no, it’s definitely weird. I’ve told you many times,” Jeff says as he slides another card across the table.

Kent shakes his head at him. “I mean, weirder, ‘cause you know I’m gay and I know you’re gay,” he says.

“I mean, maybe,” Jeff says. “Isn’t it weird to read them at all?”

Kent shrugs. “I dunno,” he says, and oddly enough, he blushes and looks away, down at the table. Jeff can count the times he’s seen Kent embarrassed on one hand.

The best way to get Kent to talk is to shut up, because Kent doesn’t do well in silence. Jeff doesn’t either, but he makes himself be quiet now.

He thinks it might not work, because they’re in the middle of a game so Kent has something to focus on other than the silence. But Kent doesn’t ask for another card, and he doesn’t stand, either, and eventually he says, “I guess it’s kind of a wish fulfilment thing.”

Jeff’s heart stops. “What?” he says.

“I mean, like,” Kent says, looking down at his cards, “I can’t, uh, can’t really date, or whatever, ‘cause I’m not out, so it’s like… reading about, uh, me dating fans or players is, uh. I dunno. It helps sometimes.”

“Okay,” Jeff says as his heart restarts. So it’s not about him and Kent. That’s pretty much what he expected. Also, the idea of Kent reading fan fiction about dating because he can’t get the real thing is not something Jeff wants to think about. “So why’d you read them to me?”

“Did it bother you?” Kent says, instead of answering the question.

“What do you mean?” Jeff says evasively.

Kent glances at him, then back at the card table. “I mean, ‘cause you were in some of them. And if you’d done that to me, I probably would’ve felt like you were onto me.”

Jeff has never interpreted Kent’s fan fiction-reading habits as anything other than just him being an over-the-top little shit, which is probably for the best. If he’d had to worry about Kent being onto him, at the same time as worrying about his stupid pining, it probably would’ve killed him.

“No,” he says. “I mean, yeah—I mean no.”

Kent snorts. “Is that a yes or a no?”

Jeff rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I didn’t think you were onto me. So, no.”

“But it did bother you,” Kent surmises. He’s not wrong.

“It—It was fine,” Jeff lies.

Kent looks at him, eyes narrowed. “You know, I didn’t realize until that last time that it really upset you,” he says. “And you never did tell me why that time was worse, but now I’m pretty sure you didn’t like it before then, either.”

“It was fine when it wasn’t… us,” Jeff says, and he hates that his voice comes out small.

Kent winces a little. “Right,” he says. “I… I’m sorry.”

“’S okay,” Jeff mumbles.

“Should’ve known that would be weird,” Kent says. “And, like… invasive and stuff. Sorry.” He really does look contrite, and Jeff appreciates it, but he also hates it a little, seeing Kent so miserable. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t—” Kent adds, but he cuts himself off before he finishes the sentence, and winces again.

Jeff wouldn’t what?

Kent has turned his attention back to his cards and finally asks for another one. Jeff slides it across the table, but he can’t really focus on anything except Kent’s unfinished sentence. And what Kent said about wish fulfilment earlier.

“I’m—gonna get us another beer,” Jeff mumbles, and gets up to walk the three steps to the fridge as if that distance will give him some space.

Not for the first time, since their mutual coming-out, he wonders what Kent would say if Jeff confessed everything. He’s heard dozens of scenarios like that, in various stories that Kent has read to him over the months. Of course, in those stories, there’s always a happy ending.

Goddamn, he wants a happy ending too.

Even if he doesn’t get one, maybe he just wants Kent to know. He trusts that Kent wouldn’t be mean about it, even if he doesn’t feel the same way. Jeff knows he wouldn’t have had that much faith, back before he knew Kent was gay, too. But now he believes that much, at least.

So maybe he should just say it. That he has feelings for Kent. Or that Kent wasn’t the only one for whom those stories were wish fulfilment.

He’s been staring into the fridge for at least a minute. He closes it and then realizes he never did take out any drinks. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He should say something now, about how he feels about Kent, or else he never will.

Of course, what comes out of his mouth is, “I dreamed about it.”

Kent turns in his chair to face him. “Dreamed about what?” he asks.

Jeff swallows down the lump in his throat. In for a penny, in for a pound. He leans back against the fridge for support. “The night before you showed up with that story. I dreamed about—after that game. In the locker room. You telling me I did well and—” He can’t actually finish his sentence, as it turns out.

“And what?” Kent asks. He’s staring, his eyes wide. He doesn’t look weirded out. He looks—he looks _hopeful_.

Jeff takes a deep breath. “You pushed me against a wall,” he says, ignoring the furious blush that rises on his cheeks. “And you kissed me. And, uh. Other things.” Kent is still staring, and Jeff already regrets this decision. His mouth takes over as he looks away. “And then you showed up with that story and it was the same fucking thing, which was just—you know, that’s just perfect, because you’d been shoving stories at me for months that were, like, really pretty much exactly what I wanted, but at least it was bearable because I knew it was fake, and I could just tell myself not to picture it, except then the one time—well, not the one time, but like, one of the few times—that I dream about you, that’s the time you show up with a story that has literally the same premise, so I—”

“Jeff,” Kent says. Kent almost never calls him Jeff. It’s Swoops, or sometimes Troy.

“Uh, yeah?” Jeff says. He doesn’t look at Kent.

“ _Jeff_ ,” Kent says again. He stands up and takes a step toward Jeff. “Are you—Did you just say you want… me?”

Jeff finally looks up from the floor and at Kent’s face. Kent is staring at him with wide eyes and a barely-there smile. Jeff licks his lips, and Kent’s eyes shoot down to his mouth, and, and… _Oh_.

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “For a long time, actually.”

“Oh,” Kent breathes, taking another step closer. “Fuck. _Fuck,_ seriously? I— _fuck._ It’s been, like, years for me, that’s why I switched to those stories, and I didn’t—I didn’t think you—” He runs a hand through his hair, and then something shifts and he switches from stammering to something far smoother. His lips quirk up in a smirk and he says, “So you dreamed about me pushing you against a wall and kissing you, huh?”

Jeff can’t do anything but nod, and then Kent closes the last of the distance between them until he’s in Jeff’s space, and they’re just inches apart. “Uh,” is all Jeff manages to say. He can feel the heat radiating off of Kent’s body. Kent reaches up and pushes his fingers into the short hair just above Jeff’s ear.

“Want me to make your dreams come true?” Kent says, and his smirk betrays that he knows exactly how corny that line is.

“Yes,” Jeff breathes.

Kent’s smirk widens. He wraps both hands around Jeff’s biceps and pulls him away from the fridge, only to step closer so Jeff is forced to take a step back, and then another, until his back slams into the wall beside the fridge. Kent wastes no time pushing right up into his space, sliding his hands up to cup Jeff’s face, and kissing him.

Jeff has kissed plenty of girls before, and some of it was pretty enjoyable, but this is something else. There’s maybe two seconds where it’s fairly chaste, but then Jeff draws in a gasp, and Kent opens his mouth, and Jeff slides his tongue against Kent’s, and it’s everything he’s wanted for months and months. Kent leans against him just enough that Jeff is reminded he’s still pushed up against a wall. Jeff slides his arms around Kent’s back and pulls him closer so he can kiss him more passionately.

“You like that, huh,” Kent says between kisses.

“Mmyeah,” Jeff mumbles. Kent pulls back to smirk at him, and then pushes his hands into Jeff’s hair and kisses him and kisses him, until Jeff’s lungs are burning and he has to pull away to take a deep breath. When he does, Kent kisses the corner of his mouth, and then his cheek, just little pecks that feel immeasurably tender. Then he kisses down Jeff’s neck until he finds a spot that makes Jeff’s breath hitch.

“Yeah?” Kent says.

“Yeah,” Jeff says breathlessly, and Kent kisses that spot again, sucks on the skin a little, and Jeff can’t stop the low, “Ahh,” that escapes him.

“Hickeys: yes, no, maybe?” Kent says, the next time he pulls back a little.

“Maybe?” Jeff says, because he can’t really think it through right now. People might see, which is—they wouldn’t know it was from Kent, but—

“Gonna take that as a no for now,” Kent says, and moves to a different spot on Jeff’s skin, just above the collar of his shirt.

“’Kay,” Jeff mumbles. He bites back another moan as Kent finds the next sensitive spot, but then he finds that he really wants to kiss Kent properly again. He reaches up, slides his hands into Kent’s hair, and gently pulls his head up.

“Ohhh, _oh_ , fuck,” Kent whimpers, his entire body going rigid against Jeff’s.

“Fuck, sorry,” Jeff says, hastily pulling his hands away, but then he catches sight of the expression on Kent’s face. Kent’s mouth is half-open and his eyes are closed and he looks completely blissed out. “Is that—a thing for you?” he asks, a little hesitantly.

Kent opens his eyes and blinks a couple of times, as if to clear his head. Then he ducks his head back down to hide it against Jeff’s shoulder. “Maybe,” he mumbles.

“Can I?” Jeff asks, twisting a lock of Kent’s hair between his fingers.

“Uh,” Kent says. “I mean, yeah, but—” He shivers against Jeff when Jeff puts some tension on the strands of hair he’s touching. “I get. Uh. I get loud and it’s—yeah.”

Jeff slides his fingers under Kent’s chin so he can lift his face and kiss him. Kent kisses back eagerly, passionately, so it’s a little while before Jeff can say, between heaving breaths, “Do you want me to?”

Kent’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low. Jeff tugs gently on Kent’s hair, and Kent drops his head and mouths at Jeff’s neck. When Jeff pulls a little harder, Kent moans against his shoulder, so Jeff does it again, scratching his nails gently over Kent’s scalp and then tugging again.

“Ah, ah, _Jeff_ ,” Kent says. “Nnn—”

Kent pushes his hips forward, one of his legs sliding between Jeff’s. His thigh grinds against Jeff’s erection, and Jeff forgoes pulling on Kent’s hair because his fingers go slack. “F-fuck,” he stutters.

“What—ah. What else did you, did you dream?” Kent says.

Right, his dream. The dream that Kent seems intent on bringing to life. Jeff draws in a shuddering breath. “Ah, you, uh, you blew me,” he mumbles into Kent’s hair.

“Did I now,” Kent says, leaning back a little to smirk at him. He tilts his hips forward just a bit, and Jeff shudders at the pressure against his dick. “Against the wall?”

“Ahh, ah, yeah,” Jeff says.

“Want me to do that?” Kent asks.

“God, yeah,” Jeff says.

“Can I take this off?” He tugs gently at the collar of Jeff’s shirt.

“Yeah,” Jeff says again. Kent unbuttons the top button and presses a kiss against Jeff’s newly exposed skin. Jeff huffs out a breath, his hands moving uselessly until he rests them on Kent’s hips. Kent undoes another button and presses a kiss to Jeff’s collarbone. When Jeff lets out a whine, Kent stills his hands and just licks and nips at Jeff’s skin until Jeff feels almost lightheaded with it.

“So gorgeous,” Kent says between kisses. Jeff’s breath hitches. That’s not something Kent had said in the dream. It’s not even something Jeff’s ever imagined, because Kent is beautiful—Kent is the one with the ESPN body shoot and the fangirls crying over every sliver of visible skin in his training videos. Kent is the gorgeous one, between the two of them.

Kent pulls back a little, as if he senses Jeff’s hesitation. “Is that okay to say?” he asks, frowning a little.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, because he doesn’t _mind_ hearing it—he actually quite likes it, it’s just kind of weird.

“Good,” Kent says. “’Cause you are. So beautiful,” he says, somehow undoing the rest of Jeff’s buttons in record time. He runs his hands over Jeff’s newly exposed chest and stomach. “Gorgeous,” he says again, and Jeff can’t help but believe him.

Kent presses another kiss to his collarbone and then he sinks to his knees, pressing his nose to the bulge in Jeff’s jeans.

“Fuck,” Jeff mumbles, because the sight of Kent on his knees is even better than he’d imagined. Kent moves closer, and the pressure against his hard-on feels amazing even through the fabric. Jeff tilts his head back and slides his hands into Kent’s hair.

Kent moans, his head tipping sideways against Jeff’s hip. Jeff realizes it’s because of what he’s doing with his hands, and he can’t resist the urge to twist his hands into fists and pull up.

The noise Kent lets out is almost a sob. “Ah, ah, stop,” he whines, his voice high, and Jeff lets go at once.

“Too much?” he asks.

“No, I—” Kent’s eyes have glazed over. He sits back a little, and Jeff misses him at once. “I can’t—I can’t—you need to keep your hands somewhere else or I can’t focus,” Kent says.

Jeff winds a strand of Kent’s hair around his finger. “Could you come just from this?” he asks, suddenly really curious, because he’s never actually seen someone have such a strong response just to having hands in his hair.

Kent shoots him a dark look. “I don’t know,” he says, a deep blush creeping up his neck. “I don’t want to find out today.”

“Oh,” Jeff says, a little disappointed.

Kent sighs. “I—Just—Later, okay? If you want me to blow you, you need to not do that right now,” he says.

“Well, where am I supposed to put my hands?” Jeff protests.

Kent bites his lip as he thinks it over, which is extremely distracting. “Maybe it’s easier on a bed,” he says.

The idea of recreating his dream is amazing, but as soon as Kent says the word ‘bed’, an image pops up in Jeff’s head of Kent in his bedroom, and that’s at least as good.

“Yeah, plan,” he says. He wastes no time pulling Kent to his feet and dragging him to the bedroom. Kent chuckles at his enthusiasm. Jeff retaliates by turning around in the doorway, wrapping his arms around Kent’s waist, and picking him up.

“Hey, put me down,” Kent protests, laughing as he tries to twist out of Jeff’s arms. Jeff just holds him tighter and carries him over to the bed. When he tries to drop Kent on top of it, Kent holds on instead, so they both end up toppling over onto the sheets.

“Ow,” Jeff laughs when he ends up with Kent’s knee in his stomach. He pushes at Kent’s shoulder until Kent rolls over onto his back, so Jeff can lean over him and kiss him. Kent slides his hands up Jeff’s chest and neck, pushing his unbuttoned shirt back over his shoulders.

“Take it off,” Kent says, and Jeff sits up a little to do so. Then Kent reaches up, hooks his fingers together at the back of Jeff’s neck, and pulls him back down. Jeff kisses him hard, until they’re both panting and Kent is letting out little sighs and moans.

“Roll over,” Kent says after a while.

“Mm, no,” Jeff says, moving his weight to one arm so he can tug playfully at Kent’s messy hair.

Kent lets out a shuddering breath. “If you want me to blow you, you’re gonna have to roll over,” he says.

Jeff grins at him. “Make me.”

Kent stares up at him for a second, his mouth open. Then he smirks, and a split second later, he jabs at the arm Jeff is leaning on, knocking it out from under him.

Jeff topples onto Kent’s chest with a grunt, and then Kent is trying to flip him over and Jeff is trying to pin Kent’s arms to his sides. He can feel Kent’s abs against his own bare chest through Kent’s thin t-shirt. Then Kent’s arms slide around his back, and there’s so much skin on skin already that he doesn’t know how to bear it.

They’re both breathing heavily by the time Kent manages to push Jeff off of him and onto his side. Jeff rolls the rest of the way onto his back, and Kent swings a leg over him until he’s sitting on Jeff’s thighs. He grabs Jeff’s wrists and pins them above his head and leans down to kiss him.

Jeff knows he could break out of Kent’s grip easily, but he doesn’t bother. Instead he loses himself in the kiss. Kent pauses to sit up and pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Damn,” Jeff mumbles, reaching out to slide his hands over Kent’s fucking flawless pecs and abs.

“You’ve seen me before,” Kent reminds him, biting his lip when Jeff ghosts his fingers over Kent’s stomach.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t really touch, then,” Jeff says. “C’mere. Kiss me.”

Kent leans down and does just that, and Jeff slides his hands down Kent’s bare back, and it’s all so good. He keeps losing track of the time, but eventually Kent sits up, takes a few deep breaths, and says, “Still want me to blow you?”

Jeff has been hard since way before they even made it to the bedroom, and he thinks he’d happily make out for several more hours if that’s what Kent wanted, but this isn’t an offer he can resist.

“Fuck, yes, please,” he says.

Kent shifts until he’s on his knees beside Jeff. He slides his hands down Jeff’s stomach until he reaches the waistband of his jeans. “Can I?” he asks.

“Get on with it,” Jeff says impatiently. Kent smirks at him, and his hands still.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his smirk widening.

“ _Yes_ ,” Jeff says.

“Really?” Kent says.

Jeff covers his face with his hands. “Kent,” he whines.

Kent has mercy on him. He pops the button and pulls the zipper down, and then he nudges at Jeff’s hips until Jeff lifts them from the bed and Kent can pull his jeans and boxers down. Jeff takes his hands away from his face to find Kent staring at his hard cock, biting his lip.

“God you’re so—” Kent says. “So gorgeous. Fuck, Jeff, I—” He breaks off and shakes his head.

Jeff doesn’t know what to say. “Kent,” he mumbles.

Kent nudges at his knee until Jeff spreads his legs a little, and then Kent settles between them, splaying his hands over Jeff’s hips. He leans down and trails the tip of his tongue slowly along the length of Jeff’s dick.

“Ah,” Jeff huffs out. At the last second, he remembers not to put his hands in Kent’s hair. He grips his sheets instead. “Kent, I’m—It’s been a long—”

“Been a long time?” Kent says. He looks up at Jeff through his lashes, and the sight sends a wave of arousal through Jeff’s body.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps. “Yeah. Like, like years, and it wasn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Kent says, smirking at him. “Just enjoy it. And don’t worry about warning me or whatever. I swallow.” He winks, and before Jeff has any time to recover from how devastatingly sexy he is, he bends down again and wraps his lips around the tip of Jeff’s cock.

“Oh, oh, nn—” Jeff moans, slapping a hand across his mouth to hold in the sounds he can’t stop making. Kent swirls his tongue around the head, and Jeff can feel his toes curling. It’s so good, and he’s been so turned on for so long.

Kent runs his hands up the insides of Jeff’s thighs as he takes him in deeper. Jeff’s body arches up without his permission, but Kent lays one of his forearms over Jeff’s hips and gently pushes him back down. He pulls off, only to lick and kiss his way down Jeff’s dick and then swallow him back down.

Jeff kind of wants to see it, but he also thinks he might come if he caught sight of Kent with his mouth on him. So maybe it’s for the best that he stays where he is, staring unseeing at the ceiling, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other over his mouth to try to keep quiet. He can’t tell if Kent is really that good at this, or if it’s because Jeff’s last time was years ago, but in the end, he doesn’t really care.

Kent pulls off and Jeff looks down. Kent’s lips are slick with spit; he meets Jeff’s eyes as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. God, he looks amazing with his disheveled hair and his reddened lips, and there’s something incredibly sexy about the deliberate way he moves.

Kent tugs at Jeff’s elbow until Jeff takes his hand away from his mouth. “Wanna hear you,” Kent says, tangling his fingers through Jeff’s.

“Fuck, okay, I—Ah, ahh,” Jeff moans as Kent bends down again and takes him back in his mouth. His voice breaks when he says “Kent,” and then “fuck” and then “yes” and then he’s just moaning with every breath he takes.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he knows he’s close. It’s lost in a haze of sensation, of Kent’s tongue sending shivers down his body, of Kent’s fingers gripping his hips to keep him still, his other hand still tangled up with Jeff’s.

Kent said he didn’t have to warn him, but he squeezes Kent’s fingers anyway. “Gonna—‘m close,” he manages to say. Kent squeezes back, and he sucks a little harder. Then Jeff is groaning through his orgasm, his mind going blank with pleasure.

When he opens his eyes—he’s not even sure when he closed them—Kent is sitting up, looking down at him fondly. 

Jeff reaches out, and Kent leans over to kiss him. Jeff can taste his come on Kent’s lips, which is weird and hot at the same time. He reaches up to tangles his hands in Kent’s hair, and Kent moans helplessly against his lips.

“What do you want?” Jeff asks between kisses.

“Fuck, anything, I’m—God I’m so close, I can’t—” Kent says, cutting himself off to breathe heavily against Jeff’s neck as Jeff scratches his scalp. He lets out a whimper when Jeff tugs gently at his hair again.

Jeff feels a little more clear-headed, now that he’s less overwhelmed by arousal. Thankfully, that just means he can pay more attention to all the little noises that Kent is making. “How are you still wearing pants?” he asks.

“Don’t know,” Kent mumbles. He bats Jeff’s hand away when Jeff reaches for his fly, and undoes his pants himself, shoving them off and out of the way as fast as he can.

Jeff feels a renewed wave of arousal when he sees Kent fully naked, hard, his eyes clouded over with desire. Kent leans over him and kisses him, and there’s something desperate in it. Jeff wastes no time sliding his hands back into Kent’s hair, rubbing circles into his scalp.

Kent’s breath stutters against Jeff’s lips. “Fuuuck,” he whines. “Jeff, ohmygod Jeff, I can’t—”

Jeff realizes Kent is stroking himself, and he slides one hand out of Kent’s hair to reach down. “Can I?” he asks.

“God, yeah, please,” Kent says, and Jeff didn’t think he’d ever hear Kent beg for anything, but here they are.

He wraps his hand around Kent’s, tangling their fingers together as he lets Kent guide the movements. With his other hand, he keeps twisting Kent’s hair, tugging gently and reveling in the gasps and grunts that it pulls from Kent.

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna—Fuck,” Kent huffs, and then he drops his head against Jeff’s shoulder, muffling a long groan as he spills over Jeff’s stomach, his limbs trembling with his orgasm. He collapses on top of Jeff as soon as his climax is over, and Jeff wraps both arms around him and holds him close, pressing kisses into Kent’s hair.

They’re quiet for a while as Kent’s breathing gradually settles back into a normal rhythm. Jeff is suddenly gripped by uncertainty. What does this mean? He guesses this wasn’t just physical for Kent either, but he isn’t really sure.

Kent kisses his collarbone and then rolls off of Jeff to make a grab for the tissues on his bedside table. He doesn’t meet Jeff’s eyes as he cleans them both up a bit, then tosses the tissues on the floor.

“Ew,” Jeff comments.

“Whatever,” Kent says. He lies back down, right up against Jeff’s side, one hand splayed over Jeff’s stomach.

Kent said he’d been thinking about Jeff for years, that the stories were wish fulfilment. And those stories were all romantic, not sexual, so that must mean he likes Jeff back, right? Jeff, on the other hand, has only alluded to a sex dream. So maybe Kent won’t meet his eyes, and maybe Kent is tense beside him right now, because he doesn’t know what Jeff wants. Or he’s changed his mind. Or Jeff misunderstood him, and he never wanted anything more than sex.

“What are we doing?” Jeff says when the silence has become unbearable.

Kent freezes up against him. “We’re lying on a bed,” he says. It comes out smooth, but the tension in his body says it’s fake.

Jeff sighs. “You know what I mean,” he says. Kent doesn’t respond, so apparently Jeff is going to have to spell it out. “I mean,” he says, and then finds out that he can’t find the words to explain. “I mean, are we—was this… just sex?”

“If you want,” Kent says quietly.

“I—” Jeff says. He swallows. “I want… I want to go out with you,” he confesses, and then his mouth takes over again and he keeps going. “I mean, not—not out, because I don’t want people to know, but I want—dating, and, and corny romantic shit. I want to go home with you after games and blow you when we’ve won and probably blow you when we’ve lost too, but first I’d hug you until you stop looking like a sad puppy, and I want—I want to play video games with you and make you dinner and get texts from you at 5 am that are just pictures of Kit, and I know those last things are things we already do, but I want it to be…” He trails off, unsure how to word it, and chances a peek down at Kent.

Kent is looking up at him, his eyes shining. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

“Yeah?” Jeff says, and winces a little at how ridiculously hopeful he sounds.

“Yeah,” Kent says. He shifts up so he can kiss Jeff. Jeff can feel him smile against his lips. “I, uh. Have kind of wanted that for a long time,” Kent says when he puts his head back on Jeff’s shoulder.

“Me too,” Jeff says. He tightens his arm around Kent.

“Hashtag mutual pining,” Kent says.

Jeff snorts out a laugh. “Well, at least we avoided the fake relationship storylines,” he says, because Kent has read him at least three of those. He thinks if that had somehow happened in real life, he would’ve died from frustration.

“Mm,” Kent says. He’s beginning to sound sleepy.

“Come on,” Jeff says, nudging at Kent until he moves around so Jeff can pull his blanket over both of them. As soon as they’re under the blanket, Kent shuffles closer again and puts his head back on Jeff’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I get—cuddly.”

Jeff curls his arm around Kent’s back. “Good,” he whispers. Before he knows it, he’s fast asleep.

\--

When Jeff wakes up, Kent is sitting up against the headboard, looking down at his phone.

“Morning,” he says cheerfully, like the disgusting morning person he is.

“Ughhh,” Jeff says eloquently. He rolls over against Kent’s thigh.

Kent laughs and ruffles his hair. “Wanna hear a story?” he says.

“Mm,” Jeff mumbles. “What story?”

“It has lots of mutual pining,” Kent says.

Jeff groans. “Oh my god, you’re going to keep reading those,” he says.

“Yup,” Kent says.

“Does it matter if I say I don’t want to hear it?” Jeff says.

“Nope,” Kent says. He traces the outline of Jeff’s shoulder blades with his finger.

Jeff shivers. “Fine, read it.”

“ _In October, Kent decided that things had gone too far_ ,” Kent starts. Jeff closes his eyes and smiles.

\-- 

“So wait, you actually leave comments on these things?” Jeff asks. He’s at the kitchen table, admiring the view that is Kent making dinner for what he calls their “two-monthiversary” and what Jeff calls “just a date, Kent, monthiversaries are not a thing”.

“Yeah, of course,” Kent says. He bends down to grab a new bag of rice from one of the cabinets below the counter. The view is _very_ nice. “People put their heart and soul into writing these things, Jeff, have some respect.”

Kent has started calling him Jeff more often. Jeff really, really likes it, though he also really likes how Kent has somehow turned “Swoops” into something soft and private when he says it, even though the entire team and half their fans use that nickname.

“Yeah, but I mean, isn’t it kind of important to stay anonymous?”

“I’m not giving them my full name and address,” Kent says. “I just have a random account name that makes me look like a fan, and then I—here, hang on, I’ll just show you.”

He pulls out his phone and taps the screen a couple of times while he stirs one of the pots. The food smells really good. Jeff cooks, but only when he has to, whereas Kent is actually pretty good at it.

Kent tosses his phone at Jeff, who only barely catches it. “See, that’s my page. There’s an inbox; if authors reply to my comment you can see it there, so you can find the comments I left.”

“Your screen name is _KentParsonFan90_?” Jeff says.

“ _KentParsonFan_ was taken,” Kent says.

“Oh my god, you are such a…” Jeff doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence, so he doesn’t. Kent turns to smirk at him and then directs his attention back to the food.

Jeff scrolls through the inbox, which is filled with comments like “Thanks so much!” and “Yeah the second chapter is going to be up next week, thanks <3”. He clicks through to the stories and finds Kent’s original comments—only marginally more grammatically correct than his texts, even though he’s on a writing website.

“hey this was rly cute thanks for writing <3 <3” Kent commented on one of those weird coffeeshop AUs that he has a particular liking for. There’s “damn that was hot” on a recent story with a sex scene that Jeff remembers really well. Kent normally reads them out dramatically to make Jeff laugh, but sometimes he gets into it himself and forgets to ham it up, until he’s just reading it out in a low voice that is way, way too sexy. Then they end up making out and/or recreating whatever scene Kent was reading.

There’s “hey you said in your authors note that you don't know if swoops is in character but i think this is rly spot on if you look at his interviews, he's totally like that”, which makes Jeff laugh. Kent is so obnoxious sometimes. Jeff loves it, even if he mostly just chirps the hell out of Kent for it.

“No stories on your page, huh?” he says, once he’s read a dozen comments and has circled back to Kent’s account page.

“Dude, I couldn’t do us justice,” Kent says.

“Bookmarks are for ones you really like?” Jeff asks.

“Oh, yeah, you can save them to your account, but I don’t have any. I always forget to bookmark stuff, and the authors don’t get a notification for it anyway, so I just stick to leaving comments,” Kent says, but there’s a little “(1)” behind the “bookmarks” label on his account.

The only bookmark Kent has ever made is from almost two years ago. When he clicks through, Jeff half expects to find the most detailed, possibly-kinda-kinky sex scene he’s ever read.

What he gets is a little story, barely over 500 words, about “the first time Swoops tells Kent he loves him”. There’s a tag for “Established Relationship” and for “Fluff” and for “i’m sorry y’all i had a terrible day and just needed to write something cute”.

He scrolls through it, because any second now Kent is going to ask him something or demand to have his phone back. Then he goes back and reads the last few paragraphs again.

_“Hey,” Swoops said. The locker room was empty. If he didn’t say it now, he was never going to say it._

_Kent turned around, rubbing a towel through his hair. “Yeah?”_

_He can’t make himself say it. Instead he says, “Thanks for what you said, just now. About—about that goal. It’s—I needed to hear that.”_

_“Yeah, of course,” Kent says, looking at him warmly. “Any time, babe.”_

_“I love you,” Swoops says, before he can talk himself out of it again._

_Kent’s eyes widen. “You do? I mean, I love you too. Obviously.”_

_Swoops laughs and crosses the locker room to kiss him. “Good.”_

Jeff bites his lip and looks at Kent’s back. Kent has started humming as he stirs the pot of rice. Clicking through to the comments, Jeff finds _KentParsonFan90_ halfway through the first page of them. “brb crying” is all the comment says, and then the author has responded with “aww sorry to make you cry” and then Kent responded with “no i needed this today”.

Jeff has been thinking, pretty much since he and Kent started dating, that it’s way too soon for _I love yous_. But this bookmark is from ages ago, way before they even started dating. It doesn’t have to mean that Kent loves him, but…

But he wants to say it. He closes the story’s tab on Kent’s phone, puts it on the table, and crosses the kitchen to press himself up against Kent’s back, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“I’m trying to cook,” Kent protests.

“I love you,” Jeff says.

Kent makes a little motion of surprise, but then he relaxes back into Jeff’s hold. “I love you, too,” he says quietly.

Jeff presses a kiss to his neck, and then he steps back to give Kent more space. Honestly, Jeff still has mixed feelings on fans writing stories about him, but he’s got to admit—fan fiction has led to some pretty amazing stuff.

**Author's Note:**

> Her name is Kit Purrson and Purrs is just a different nickname. This is the hill I choose to fight and die on.
> 
> (If ngozi ever decides to say that Swoops' name is not Jeff I will actually cry.)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://whovianravenclaw.tumblr.com) to scream about these hooligans or drop a comment below to let me know what you think!
> 
> Bonus thought to leave you with: Imagine before they got together, when Jeff would ruffle Kent's hair and Kent had to pretend it didn't affect him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [how the story goes [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112758) by [read by Khashana (Khashana)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/read%20by%20Khashana), [Rianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rianne/pseuds/Rianne)




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